A/N: Hello everyone! This is a very long note. It's certainly been a long time, no? I'm not dead or have not abandoned this story. I can't even imagine doing the latter! Sorry for the long delay; school, once again, has been hectic! I honestly don't know how I survived the year, though surprisingly it was very fast and I still feel like yesterday was September. But preparing for graduation was NOT easy. And my friendship was on a bumpy road, and I'll spare you the details that resemble to a sappy soap-opera (8th grade drama, oh my! :0) But now school is FINALLY over (YAY! :D) and I am now a freshman! Now the updates will be quicker. Hopefully, hehe. Thank you for being extremely patient with me and I appreciate the kind reviews, which have taken me a long time to reply to, so I apologize for that also. Another big thanks for those who have alerted and added this story to their favorites; really, you guys are the best! =)
Chapter 9
Long Road
The thing I hated most about Merle, that 'good ole' redneck, was his snarky, inappropriate, and rude insults. I despised his arrogant attitude and that smug grin that never left his face. His booming voice would irritate me as it echoed down the hollow, gray cells.
Little did I know that those small and annoying things would be the ones I missed the most about him.
A twig snapped and I jumped from my sitting position, gun raised high. Carl was right beside me, mimicking my tensed stance. Another snap. I strained my ears to know if I heard the faintest snarl of a walker yet I was only met with an eerie silence. Instead, Hershel and Beth - who was carrying little Judith - appeared behind the bushes. The old veterinarian raised his hands in surrender while Beth tried closing her gaped mouth and widened eyes.
"Don't shoot," teased Hershel but there was a slightest hint of graveness to his tone.
Sighing with relief but shoulders still rigid, Carl and I lowered our guns. Carl mumbled a sorry but I just shook my head; still nerved. "Jesus, Hershel. Thought you were a walker."
The man hobbled his way over us with the help of his crutches and Beth, his eyes now returning to the warm and fatherly chastising demeanor I was used to. "Just watch where you aim that thing."
Scoffing, I said with a biting sarcasm, "Sure thing." From my peripheral vision, I noticed an eye roll from Beth and a small smile playing on Carl's chapped lips. And I couldn't help but find my mouth curling upwards also.
After more of Hershel's scolding at me, we all laid against the green Hyundai as I took another nervous breath for the umpteenth time. Looking around, I enjoyed the scenic and peaceful atmosphere of the woods. The prison and guard towers seemed far away but surprisingly it wasn't that far. I took in the clear blue sky and the red and orange leaves that blew effortlessly in the air. The wind whistled softly and it seemed as if the many lush trees were whispering to each other; telling things that we didn't know. It was quiet, too quiet. And here we were. Just waiting. Waiting for him. It seemed weird that today was the day.
The day we'd be going into war.
I always knew this event was coming but it wasn't until a few days ago did the effect really kick in. And the death of Merle only made us fight with more vigor. I guess you could call him a martyr, though he was more of a hero in my opinion.
Whoa, I never thought I would hear the word Merle and hero together in one sentence. It was...foreign.
But it was Daryl who called his deceased brother a hero. As the way the hunter saw it, at least ten of the Governor's 'soldiers' died by the hands of Merle. Before Merle...turned...his trail of blood led to a room where there was a machine gun. Although it was a wild guess, Rick assumed that the racist redneck tried reducing the numbers of the Governor's forces by sneaking in and killing them. Michonne even said that before Merle let her go, he claimed he had some business to finish. This type of killing did seem like Merle's way of negotiating.
Although we now had a somewhat higher chance of winning this war, we lost someone valuable to the group. Although Merle wasn't exactly a bright ray of sunshine, he did have a vast knowledge of military. Not only that, but it seemed so empty without him. The narrow hallways of Cell Block C no longer filled with boisterous laughs and snorts. And Daryl had been cold and withdrawn lately. Sure, he doesn't shed a tear in front of the whole group, but it isn't hard to guess that he cried a bit at night; hoping to seem oblivious to others. But sometimes I looked at the staircase and saw the hunter's shoulders and figure rack a little, trying to contain the small sobs inside of him.
My ears drummed against my head as I heard a loud BOOM shake throughout the dense forest. I jumped a little, startled by the sudden and loud noise. My wide eyes searched through our area and when I looked straight ahead, I caught a glimpse of our guard tower. On fire.
The top of guard tower shattered into an array of bricks and glass, flames spitting out into the air.
"Oh my god," Beth muttered as she nervously bit her lip and looked at Judith, who was now fully awake due to the explosion. A small cry escaped from the baby's lips. And she wouldn't shut up. The Governor won't be the only thing we need to worry about...
"Take her inside the car," Carl ordered. I was surprised by how much authority was in his tone. Beth nodded briskly before trotting to the vehicle and sitting in the front seat, humming to the young girl.
I continued looking at the scene, the tower hard to recognize as a bright blaze of flames replaced it. This had to be the Governor's doing. I heard the roaring engine of a car and immediately held my gun up, nervously scanning through the small perimeter we were in. Even Hershel had his handgun ready. But it's not like we could fight off a whole army. I was just a teenager.
No, I thought as I shook my head feverishly. Don't think like that.
The sound of tires crunching against rocks and gravel got closer.
"Do you think we should leave?" asked Carl, an edge of fear slightly cracking his voice.
"That'd be a bad idea. Your dad told us to stay put."
"We should still go somewhere safe," insisted the boy. When was he put in charge? I looked at the elderly Hershel for some help, but his scrutinizing gaze remained stoic while watching our disagreement. Thanks, I said in my head bitterly.
I shifted my glare to Carl, his piercing blue eyes looking determined. And for a moment, I forgot about this stupid war. Forgot that the Governor and his army were approaching the prison. And the guard tower engulfed in flames.
But only for a moment.
Snapping from my thoughts, I folded my arms stubbornly. I felt like a small child pouting after their parent rejected them of having ice cream or a cookie before dinner. "We're not going."
He mimicked me, earning an exasperated sigh from my mouth. "Do I have to carry you?"
That comment was uncalled for and I couldn't help but prevent the small blush creeping up my neck. Carl now stood a few inches from me, his freckles splashed across his face more evident and suddenly I noticed he had grown a bit taller these past few weeks. I felt small but I still replied with an icy jab. "Over my dead body."
He sighed before shaking his head. "Fine," he half growled before looking at the prison again.
The sound of vehicles stopped. I took out a pair of binoculars from my backpack and looked at the prsion.
I saw some cars (more like enormous tanks) raiding the walker filled courtyard. A few people with weapons effortlessly sliced the heads off threatening walking corpses. Gunshots penetrated the quiet atmosphere while I heard screaming. The screams were actually war cries, but I didn't find that out till later.
I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, though I really had no reason to. Maybe it was because of my fear that someone of my group—who I now consider them as family—might not make it out alive. Maybe I would never be able to see a seemingly fragile yet strong woman with does eyes again. Or I won't see a newly engaged couple, or a certain police officer and crossbow expert redneck. What about the quiet but sneaky dark-skinned woman who was mad talented with a katana? I remembered how Carl and I fought so much with Rick just so we can join them in the fight. But now, I'm not so sure about that. In fact, I'm actually thankful that Rick put me here.
"They'll be fine," said Hershel in a soothing voice, as if he detected our fear and nerves. I relaxed a bit, my shoulders tensing less.
Glancing to my left, I found Carl running a nervous hand through his greasy hair, his other hand tightly gripping his gun. He actually tucked a brown strand behind his ear. Ew...
Thinking this was a great topic to distract us from a somber mood, I called out his name.
"Yeah?" he answered yet his eyes were fixated on the raging war of explosions and smoke in front of us. That was new. I tried blocking out the noise, but it only made it louder as it blared against my ears. Don't look, my mind repeated.
"You need a haircut." This caught Carl off-guard as he sent me a confused look, quirking his eyebrow. Even Hershel seemed puzzled, his eyes thick with questioning.
"What?" he asked, blinking owlishly and tilting his head to the right like a lost puppy. He actually seemed...cute...
...
...! Whoa, what? I did not...did I just...?
Stupid teenage driven-hormones.
"Kierstyn?" said Carl, his nose scrunched in confusion. Even Hershel seemed worried. "Are you...talking to yourself?"
It was my turn to blink and ask like an idiot, "What?"
"You mumbled 'stupid teenage driven-hormones'."
My cheeks were burning; on fire. Like that guard tower, except my head wasn't exploding (although I wished it did). I was talking to myself...and they heard. Hershel asked if I was okay.
"Yeah," I replied, meekly. Carl sent me a strange look; he must think I'm some lunatic. He doesn't seem so cute now...I averted their gazes, my head dipped in embarrassment. Beth came out of the car as she seemed oblivious to the sudden and weird change of events.
Her golden hair was now tied into a ponytail as she said, "Judy finally fell asleep. Poor little baby got scared."
"She's not the only one," added in Hershel before sighing heavily.
The young aspiring singer took in the awkward silence. Her forehead creased in concern as she looked at me. "Did I miss anything? Besides the explosion."
"Nothing," Carl and I blurted out at the same exact time. I refrained rolling my eyes as I exchanged a quick glance with him.
Clearing my throat, I fully looked at Beth, who was perplexed at our behavior. "What I mean is, nothing major happened." A nervous - almost hysteric - laugh escaped from my lips.
Beth eyed me strangely but didn't comment. Instead, she went back into the car to check on Carl's sister while I kept a distance from everyone. I somehow thought Carl was cute and started talking to myself. I was in deep trouble...
I think an hour, although it felt like a century, passed until I saw the same tanks leaving the prison. Leaving.
"They're going away," Carl announced my thoughts aloud.
"Does this mean..?" Did we win?
Hershel stood between us as he nodded, a small chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Guess they didn't like the prison."
I joined in the laughter and a tiny smile appeared on my face, relief washing over me. Suddenly, something touched me and I immediately tensed. But when I turned around, I was greeted with a hugging Beth. "You okay Kierstyn? I don't bite."
Shrugging, I hugged back as we celebrated this small moment of happiness. Something that was hard to find in a wasteland like this.
After breaking away from my embrace, I was planning to go back to the prison with everyone. We were safe, weren't we? So why not go back?
Yet someone thought differently.
A tall teenage boy wearing a gray hat was at least five feet away from me, his shotgun aiming right at me. It then shifted to Carl and Hershel, who already had their weapons out. Blanching and startled, I froze in my spot. Slowly, I raised my gun and aimed at his head. My fingers trembled uncontrollably as I found the trigger. Did anyone hear my heart hammering against my chest? Because I sure did.
"Don't shoot," blurted the teen, breathing heavily and sucking in short, labored breaths. I glanced to my left to see Hershel shaking his head at me. He didn't want me to shoot. I felt my eyes widen; did he not see the threat this guy was posing?!
"Put down your weapon, son," said Hershel.
I heeded a slight hesitation from the boy's dark blue eyes and it only made more tense. Suspicion grew as he kept looking back and forth. Carl noticed it also as he gently nudged me, his orbs worried.
"We don't have all day," I hissed through clenched teeth, my gun wavering a bit. He was making me anxious. I don't even think I can shoot him, but maybe the bluff would scare him off.
"Yeah, sure." He slowly extended the shotgun to Carl although I saw the stranger's long index finger wrapped around the trigger. Holy...
"Here, take it," he insisted. Why doesn't he just drop the gun? Is he allies with the Governor? Or is he some innocent survivor? His eyes flitted to me again, and I furrowed my brows angrily mixed with confusion.
Carl's fingers shook tremulously and a small bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. I glanced at Hershel to see him biting his lip nervously. The stranger was coming closer to Carl and me. I was frightened. Frightened at why he wouldn't drop his weapon. Frightened at how he constantly looked back and forth. Frightened that he was going to shoot us.
In the blink of an eye, I suddnely pulled the trigger and the next thing I saw was the stranger on the cold ground. The gunshot echoed loudly throughout the forest and the few birds that were nesting on the trees above us hastily flew away; frightened by the noise. I don't blame them, as I jumped and yelped from the sound resonating in my ears. Hesitantly, I caught a glimpse at the stranger who collapsed.
A bullet wound was right between his brows and blue eyes, which were wide open; expressing fear. His mouth gaped like a goldfish, yet unlike fish blood was coming out of it. In fact, there was blood everywhere. The crimson liquid oozed where he was shot. There was a pool of it right underneath him. And right next to him, was that shotgun he wouldn't give up.
It took all of my guts to not puke right in front of everyone.
Mostly, I wouldn't really feel like this when death approached. Death was everywhere so I've become numb to it. All I did was kill. Kill walkers.
But this was a human. And I was the one responsible.
I killed a person, was all I thought. I killed someone. A living being.
But I did it in the safety of the group. Right?
That still doesn't hide the fact that you took the life of a person, my mind interjected.
My head was pounding against my skull, and I felt like it was going to split open. I couldn't take it anymore and I covered my ears, with my hands that were caked with dirt. I heard a shrill groan nearby. Thinking it was Carl, Beth, Judith, or Hershel, I turned around. And it wasn't till I saw their faces did I notice that I was the one making the horrible noise.
I bolted past them, and ran. Ran. I ran, ignoring the searing burn in my legs. I ran until I lost my balance and collapsed onto my knees, a sob racking through my body. Hot tears streaked down my face and I wiped them hurriedly. Don't cry, I repeated to myself. Don't cry.
Somehow, I managed to calm down for a few seconds. Exhale...inhale...exhale...inhale...
Then the actions and grim reality of what I did hit me like a ton of bricks.
My stomach began churning unpleasantly while I covered my quivering mouth with my hand. Bile rose to my throat and I gasped for air. I began coughing out the can of peaches I had earlier in the morning. Disgusted and in pain, I slowly backed away until my head bumped into the hard trunk of a tree. I groaned before resting against it, hugging my knees.
Slowly, I rocked back and forth. I was shivering, realizing that the jacket I had earlier on was gone. I then remembered that I left in the car. Stupid.
But that still doesn't avoid the fact that I killed someone.
A boy who had to be no more than sixteen. Had. Why would I just shoot? Where was my common sense? Did I base everything on my reckless behavior and fear instead of thinking things through?
That had to be it. I was a cold person.
"Despicable," I whispered softly. "Cruel. Ruthless. Heartless." The list can go on.
Something felt like a ton in the right pocket of my tattered jeans. My fingers slowly entered into the pocket only to be met with a cold object. Sucking in a deep breath, I took it out and saw that it was the gun. This horrible weapon. My thumb felt the grooves as it found the trigger. Soon, my mind flooded to the images of the bloody boy...who is now dead. Because of me.
He had a name, one that I didn't know. He was young. People probably cared about him. Or maybe he was a loner. Hell, he might have even known the Governor. But no matter what he was a human. Was. Now he's no longer breathing...because of me...
Shrieking in anger, I threw the thing as it flew across the air. I don't need it; never did.
Leaves rustled by and I froze, my shoulders rigid. Was it some other stranger? Another person I'd have to kill?
He appeared out of the bushes, his blue eyes worried yet possessed some wariness. As if one step closer would send me on a crazy rampage.
Maybe it would.
And I didn't want to hurt him. He had to leave, even if I had to be harsh with him.
"Carl," I seethed, pointing my index finger to some random direction. He raised an eyebrow at my hostility. "Get out."
"Why would I do that?" he asked, his tone matching mine's.
Sighing, I buried my head between my knees. "I've hurt enough people today."
When I looked up, he was closer to me and Carl's eyes locked with my hollow ones. He gently touched my shoulder, but I jerked away. "Don't touch me," I said stiffly.
He shrugged it off but seemed a bit hurt. Rejected. "We have to go. Back to the group," he said softly, trying for a more soothing voice.
"No. Just leave me here. I'll injure somebody. And they'll hate me."
"They won't."
"How do you know?" I inquired before I chuckled dryly. "Geez, Carl, I killed someone. Who's going to be my next victim?"
Carl had enough of my stubbornness and scoffed before saying impatiently, "Are you that stupid? I'm not leaving you, come on. And stop looking at me like that. I've had enough of your bratty behavior."
To be honest, he sounded a lot like his father. After a few tense minutes, I grunted out a "fine," and got up by myself. I walked with him though kept my distance, my body (especially my legs) feeling like lead at every step I took.
"Are you just gonna leave the gun?" he asked incredulously. A nod was my answer as he sighed and went back to retrieve it.
...
The car ride back to the prison was pretty silent until Hershel spoke up. "Why did you do it?"
I knew he was directing the question to me but I only looked down at my shoes, avoiding everyone. I imagined that I was in a black abyss and that I was all alone. With no strangers, or a blue-eyed teenager. No war, no walkers, and especially no guns. Just me and a pitch black world.
"Kierstyn," I heard Hershel say, a bit more harshly this time. "Answer me."
Finally breaking away from my fantasy, I peered at the rear view mirror as my orbs met with the old man's. My eye twitched a bit as his intimidating gaze seem to bore into my soul. Not able to handle it anymore, I looked away as I stared out the dirty window. I had no answer for that.
Apparently, someone else did.
"She did what she had to," piped up Carl. I whipped my head to the left, wanting to see his expression. But his face was obscured by that cowboy hat he held so closely to.
"No, it wasn't," Hershel disagreed, his knuckles paper white due to the tight gripping of the steering wheel. "We could've negotiated."
Carl, to my surprise, snorted. "I doubt it. I would've shot him myself if Kierstyn didn't. No hesitation."
Maybe it was the sudden dark turn of the path that sent chills down my spine. I'm not sure that statement would sit well with his father; I myself didn't like how he sounded. I didn't have to see his face to see the strong affirmation he had. Even that shut Hershel up; you just can't find a way to respond to that. Carl wasn't kidding about shooting the teen.
And that thought scared me the most.
...
"You're quiet. I don't like it," Daryl said as he strapped his crossbow to his back. I wanted to tell him that he was reclusive also but I bit my tongue before the words could spill.
A frown tugged at my lips as I shrugged lamely. The dead stranger still lingered in my mind. "Sorry I can't entertain you." He only grunted at this while he loaded his revolver. I couldn't help but wince at the click.
Everyone was loading their guns, and it was driving me crazy. I wanted to escape out of here yet I stood my ground; my nails digging into the soft flesh of my palm. "So, um, Daryl. Where are you going?"
Rick, who was by us, was quick to answer that. "We're going to find the Governor and his 'posse'. This isn't over and they couldn't have gone far."
Carl suddenly appeared next to his dad and asked a bit too eagerly, "Can Kierstyn and I go?" I grimaced at the question; I didn't want to go. It was only a place full of guns and killing.
The older Grimes immediately shook his head. "Not a chance. It's too dangerous."
"I'm sure I can handle it. So can Kier. She even shot a solider."
Something of a strangled cry came out of my mouth. I furiously narrowed my eyes at Carl. I hope it looked like I was sending icy daggers at him instead of seeming like a frightened girl. All eyes were watching me but a certain stern blue ones caught my attention. I gulped at them; Rick could be the kindest person you've ever known. But he could also be the scariest.
"What?" he said, his loud voice booming through the cells. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration but spoke more softly this time, "Kierstyn, did you...?"
"He was a boy, not a soldier," spoke up Hershel. This man was family to me, but today he seemed to be my enemy. He probably hated me...
"The boy still posed a threat to us," I stressed, on the edge of hysteria. My voice even cracked; I was losing it. "He wouldn't drop his gun when he was told. You think I had a choice?"
"No one said you wanted to do it," said Carol in her soft spoken voice. "But are you sure he didn't surrender?"
"He did, but he was still going to hurt us," defended Carl. He was looking at me, but I was only fixated on Rick, who seemed conflicted.
"We'll talk about this later," he concluded with a heavy sigh. "We need to go finish this, once and for all."
"Glenn and I'll stay here just in case the Governor has changed his route," stated Maggie as her fingers intertwined with the Asian. Rick nodded and began packing more stuff. When him, Michonne, and Daryl were about to leave, the officer gestured a finger towards me. Reluctantly, I trudged my way to where he was heading.
We stood by the old bloody basketball courts as I kicked some pebbles. Daryl and Michonne kept their distance but I wondered if they were hearing our conversation. Looking around, I saw three or four walkers roaming around the courtyard. Strange. Guess the Governor actually did one good thing.
But we weren't here to converse about that man. Rick wanted to talk about something else. I suddenly felt like I was back in school; sitting outside the principal's office and waiting for my punishment.
"Are you okay?" To be honest, the question threw me off. The others in the group would ask Why I would shoot without thinking. Why did I do it. No one questioned if I was all right. And I didn't know the answer to that.
Everything was so confusing.
"I'm fine. I guess," I drawled. He placed both hands on his hips before sighing exasperatedly.
"Kierstyn, stop lying to me. It isn't easy, to shoot I mean. I know."
"Then why'd you ask?" I said hotly.
"Would you rather want the next question?"
My eyes looked into his stoic blue ones. At least I knew the answer to this one. "I did it for our safety. I don't know if the boy was a soldier of Woodbury, but"—I faltered before clearing my throat and speaking again, as low as a whisper—"I just couldn't take the risk."
"Why didn't Carl shoot him?" I hesitated at this and he immediately noticed it. I didn't want to tell him about Carl's little speech; I didn't even know how to say it. I answered with, "Because he didn't want to."
Either I was a pretty bad liar (which I was) or he was an amazing police officer because he saw through my lie. He said in that chastising tone that resembled so much of my deceased father, "Kierstyn..."
"Fine, fine. What happened was..." I let the words fall effortlessly and he listened. I don't know how long I rambled, but over time his bright orbs darkened. After I was finished, he was in a more somber mood than before. And I worried over the awkward silence that ensued.
Somebody whistled and I turned around to see it was an impatient Daryl. "Yo! Come on, we don' have all day!"
Rick bid a goodbye as he left with the other two; leaving me in silence. Based on his sudden mood change, I regretted telling the father about his son's views. And I couldn't remove a thought from my head; it stuck like glue.
What would've happened if Carl was the one who shot the boy?
...
The rest of the day was filled with trepidation. They weren't here yet, and the sun was about to set. It's funny how a sunset can look so beautiful while the world I live around is a wasteland.
There were more questions about the killing. But I didn't answer them. I just wasted my life in my cell, bored to death as I stared at the ceiling. Carl tried coming in once but I ordered him out.
My eyes were drooping, yearning for some sleep. And soon I succumbed to it, but it was far from pretty...
"Duane," I gasped between giggles. "Stop!" My friend only laughed harder as he tickled me around the waist. I lost my balance and fell onto the hard ground.
"Ow!" I exclaimed as my back began throbbing. Duane stopped laughing and looked at me with concern. When I half-glared at him, he chuckled instead of lifting me up.
"What a gentelman," I grumbled while I continued laying on the ground; looking at the cloudless, blue sky. From my peripheral vision, I noticed Duane shaking his head, his arms raised as if he was innocent.
"Just trying to have some fun."
"I'm not sure you're supposed to have fun while doing watch." The young boy offered a hand while I grabbed it. He hauled me up with that usual crooked smile of his plastered on his face.
"Wells, you need to have some more fun in your life." We walked at the same pace as I grabbed my rifle from the ledge of the roof and propped it onto my shoulder. Morgan was on a supply run and left us two rascals in charge of the vacant King County.
I pursed my lips and rolled my eyes at what Duane said. "Sorry I'm not your energetic and bubbly teenager."
He let out a chuckle while he looked through the scope of his rifle. "I guess that's why my dad likes you so much."
I scoffed. "For what, being boring?"
"Being mature, but that too." A small smile crept across my face as I playfully punched him in the arm.
"Awww, thanks DJ D." That was Duane's nickname. Once I found out that he wanted to be a rapper, and that he was pretty good at it, I couldn't help but tease him about it.
After one or two hours, a walker was swiftly moving through our complicated traps. It was pretty quick, too. Awfully quick...
The walker then looked at the building we were on top of and us. I let out a small gasp. "Duane, it's a...!"
"I see him!" he exclaimed. He aimed his rifle at the person's head while taking a deep breath.
"Wait, what are you doing?" I hissed, slapping his hand to get his attention.
"Dad said that anyone who causes a threat had to be given a warning or shot."
"Then give him a warning, not a shot to the head!" I said through gritted teeth. What was wrong with him?!
"HHHHELLLLOOOOOO!" yelled the survivor and my face fell in terror. No, don't scream. That's the most basic rule of surviving.
I looked over the roof to see one or three walkers attracted by the noise. They approached him but got caught in the traps. The survivor stabbed them in the head as he continued yelling for help. More walkers came.
"Shit," muttered Duane. He shifted his midnight eyes to me, full of pleading. "Kierstyn, I'm gonna have to do it."
"No, he's a human. We can help him."
"And attract a herd of walkers? Not a chance." He looked through the scope and aimed. Before I could tackle him down, he already took his shot.
We both fell down the ground with an 'oof'. He groaned while I looked at him with fear. "What did you do?" I whispered with widened eyes, shock evident all over my face. This wasn't Duane...
The survivor's screaming stopped.
Duane's brimmed-teared eyes expanded but then narrowed and flashed with anger. "I did it for our safety. You believe me don't you?"
Feeling numb all over, I simply got up and refused to look at him. Finding a pair of binolculars near Duane's rifle, I grabbed it and trudged my way to the ledge of the roof. And I looked through the lenses.
But instead of seeing the survivor, I saw a different person. A teen who wore a gray hat and had dark blue eyes. One who had a shotgun next to him.
The stranger I killed.
"Duane!" I exclaimed as I got up into an upright position. I was shivering while cold beads of sweat formed on my forehead. I frantically looked around, unaware of my surroundings. My hands desperately clutched onto the dirty white blanket of the prisoner bed. Right, I'm in the prison. Not in King County...
But that still doesn't erase the cold hard truth that I killed someone. And so did Duane.
After that little incident, Duane and I swore we wouldn't bring up one word about it to Morgan. We even hauled the body to the burning place and lit the body; watched it turn to ashes. I felt horrible, like a cold-blooded murderer. Yet Duane had a different reaction. He became darker, more harsh. Sometimes he would try to be his cheery old self, but I noticed those smiles he wore never reached his eyes. The corny jokes he would crack up covered the person he had drastically changed to. He could've easily passed as a walker. I knew how hard the boy tried to fight his demons and morality, how difficult it was to set that secret aside. He knew it would always haunt him; that he'd never forget it. He was scared, to say the least.
Duane met his fate a week later.
And now I couldn't help but wonder: would that be me? Would I have to go what he went through? Would I die?
I chuckled dryly at the last question. Stupid me; of course I would die. The true question was when would I die. Meet the same, inevitable fate as Duane's.
And then there was Carl. A heavy sigh came out of me as I thought about the kid. I swear, he was going to be the death of me.
Not only did I think he was cute (What was wrong with me? How the hell could I think that? Blame my crazy hormones.), but it also seemed he had a dark path ahead of him. Would he really have shot the boy? Not that it matters...I'm the one who did, and I was probably the one who would be walking down the said dark, turbulent path.
"Deep thinking?" asked a soothing voice. I immediately snapped my head the doorway and saw Carol standing there, her arms folded. She offered a small, weak smile.
I let out a frustrated breath. "More like wallowing in my sorrow."
Her head titled to the side as her eyes shone with curiosity. I thought she was going to sit next to me on the bed, but she still stood there. Smart woman. "Would you like to share?"
I shrugged. "The usual."
"Would this have to pertain about a certain boy?" A knowing tone rang in that question and I noticed a tiny yet coy smile tugging on her pink lips.
Like the immature child I was, I stuck out my tongue and grimaced in disgust. But I was blushing a bit. "No way." Hopefully she would fall for my lie although no one ever did. I sighed before shaking my head. "I'm thinking about the incident that happened earlier on."
The smile on Carol's face immediately fell as her lips set into a straight, thin line; all joking aside. Who would joke around a situation so grim? "I see. Are you having regrets?"
I never would've thought I could confide in Carol. She didn't exactly like me; we were more of acquaintances. Not many people could handle my impulsive and annoying behavior. Yet today, I clutched onto Carol like a baby would do with her mother. She seemed so trustworthy and her eyes were so calm but strong. I could trust this woman. "More like what ifs rather than regrets. What if the boy dropped his weapon? What if he was from Woodbury? What if I didn't shoot him?" I fiddled with my fingers and kept my gaze steady on them. "I know what you're going to say: I shouldn't worry so much about this thing. It wasn't my fault and I did what I had to do. That I should forget about it and move on. But that's...crap."
Carol laughed. "I actually agree with you on that." This caught my attention and I shifted my eyes to her soft, strong ones. Based on my befuddled expression, she elaborated more. "To be honest, it's good to worry like that. It shows that the world isn't so bleak and that we still have humanity. Morals. I feel like our world is missing that. You can't forget the actions you've done. Good or bad. They define who you are."
She spoke from wisdom; experience. That was the best type of advice. Because she was right. And for once in this dreary day, I cracked a genuine smile. "Thanks, Carol. It helped..a lot."
Hesitantly, she nodded. Then she came towards be and enveloped me in a big embrace, her hand smoothing my long hair. I tightened the grip; today, she was my motherly guide. "You're welcome. But don't worry too much."
I laughed. "I'll be sure not to."
"Hey!" a familiar voice yelled. We both turned around to see Carl standing there, looking like he was put in an uncomfortable position. "Um, yeah...You have to be outside. There's a big...surprise." He didn't sound so happy about it.
Carol and I nodded. We both followed him through the dark corridors. Carl took this as a chance and his walking pace met mine, right beside me. Carol knew what was going to happen and walked a bit faster, avoiding the both us. The boy next to me cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Hey, Kierstyn," he whispered, "about the um...shooting—"
"Save it, Carl," I cut off tersely, feeling my shoulders tense up immediately.
"But I just wanted to—"
I froze in my spot, turned to my left, and grabbed his arm; forcing him to look me in the eye. Those blue ones that I used to admire were now the ones I dreaded the most. "Carl, not one word."
He looked hurt and avoided my piercing gaze. I wanted to do something to comfort him, but I didn't have the courage. And neither did he. "Fine," he mumbled before sauntering off. Leaving me alone; a sense of despair and isolation overcoming me. Dominating every singe body part I had.
From that moment on, I knew our friendship was slowly crumbling.
Yanking strands of my hair out, I lamely walked my way out of the prison.
And saw a navy blue bus coming into the courtyard.
A/N: And that concludes chapter 9! Season 3 is over, and onto season 4. Don't worry, I won't wait until October to write the next chapter. I've kept you waiting long enough (sorry for that, by the way). I plan on writing my own rendition of the upcoming season, adding some elements from the comics and my 'little' twists.
Also, did you like that I twisted things up a little? Made Kierstyn shoot Jody, I mean. I'm so nervous about that. And the dialogue. God, this chapter feels likes hot mess. :/
This chapter was written while listening to the amazing song Radioactive by Imagine Dragons. You should look up the song if you haven't heard of it. I think it ties in so perfectly with the chapter: from "the apocalypse" to "the checking out on the prison bus". Lol. :3
Also, I've seen many authors do this; they ask their readers question about the fandom or about their favorite stuff. So I'm calling it Question Of the Day (QOTD for short). So, yeah...QOTD: what's your favorite season of The Walking Dead? 1, 2, or 3? Be sure to answer that in your reviews! ^_^
Review please! They mean a lot! And they kill walkers, something the prison group would appreciate! :)
